


Far From Home

by honeyspeeches



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Black Paladin Lance (Voltron), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Gen, Kuron is Shiro (Voltron)'s Clone, Major Character Injury, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Team as Family, War, kuron arc, this is basically just one big cry fest where everyone bonds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:08:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27100978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeyspeeches/pseuds/honeyspeeches
Summary: A story about a boy whose responsibility is thrust upon him; a princess who is struggling to lead a rebellion against a tyrannical empire; a soldier returning home; a hardened child of war, forced to grow up and grow fast; a lover, not a fighter, who tries his best to care for others; and a man who is saved by the ones that love him.This is a story about a family, who, despite having no one, found they had each other.
Relationships: Coran & Lance (Voltron), Hunk & Lance (Voltron), Keith & Krolia (Voltron), Keith & Lance (Voltron), Keith & Pidge, Keith & Shiro (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron), Kuron & Lance (Voltron), Lance & Allura, Lance & Pidge | Katie Holt, Lance & Romelle (Voltron), Lance & Shiro (Voltron), Shiro & Allura, shiro & hunk
Comments: 8
Kudos: 36





	Far From Home

**Author's Note:**

> I've been stewing in this wip for so long and finally I stayed up until 1:30 last night to plot this fic all the way to the end because I'm so invested with this idea that I want to see it to the end. I decided to post in chapters instead of one-shot, so that *hopefully* I'll be more motivated to write it to its finish TvT. Chapter title is from the song Put It On Me by Matt Maeson and Fic title is from the song Far From Home (The Raven) by Sam Tinnesz.
> 
> WARNING: this chapter gets uh,,, heavy. Just beware.

_Lance— Listen—_

***

“Hey, Shiro?” Lance didn’t look up to see if he was reacting. For some reason, he couldn’t look him in the eye with what he had to ask next. “What— what were you trying to tell me? In the astral plane?”

He heard shifting beside him, and he tried not to let the sounds be swallowed up by the wind. He chanced a glance at Shiro now, and he saw that he was looking at him, his arms crossed, and his eyebrows almost touching the white of his hair.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

Lance hesitated before answering, which was crazy. He was literally talking to his leader, the one person he should have absolute faith in. “You were trying to say something, but… I couldn’t hear you.”

This time, Lance didn’t bother looking. There were a few seconds of silence before Shiro answered with a low voice. “I don’t know. Things got dark for a second there.”

His arms were still crossed, his gaze downcast. Lance wasn’t ready when his dark eyes found his.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you before. I don’t know why…” he took a breath, then tried for a smile. It made Lance feel just the tiniest bit better. “We’re a team. I should have taken your thoughts into account.”

Lance could feel himself shaking his head, then reaching out with a hand. Shiro’s shoulder was covered in armour, but somehow Lance could still feel the coldness underneath.

“It’s alright,” he said. “We’ve all been overexerting ourselves lately. Maybe we all just need to rest.”

It seemed as if Shiro looked at him for a long time, and the more he looked, the more uneasy Lance felt. He was never good at being scrutinised. But then it started less to feel like Shiro was looking at Lance, and more Shiro looking for answers which Lance didn’t have.

With another smile, Shiro broke eye contact and exhaled, the ghost of a laugh. “Yeah. You’re probably right. Thanks, Lance.”

***

It was the mission after that, when everything went to shit.

A Galra station had sent out a beacon for help when Sendak attacked. The shield they needed in order to protect themselves from the radiation belt was shattered and it was up to the Voltron team to figure out how to save them.

Lance could admit, he had done weirder things for more questionable allies, but once Hunk had given out his orders, he couldn’t say it didn’t give him the usual mission adrenaline.

Pidge has gone with Shiro to activate the shield and Allura and Lance were just finishing up their end with their combined powers when everything went wrong.

The shield broke, the power fading away like a ghost through the walls. Lance could hear a faint grunting in the comms. Someone was yelling, but all Lance could focus on was the electric lightning shooting out from the cracks. One was headed straight for Allura.

“Allura!”

But he was already moving. He didn’t know the true speed of the Red Lion until he stood where she had, only a second after he thrust the controls forward, and immediately he felt his entire body burning with a white-hot vengeance. The pain felt like flames licking his veins and incinerating his cells, an intense burning so fierce he thought his bones might crack from the pressure of the heat. There was a loud pounding in his ears, a roar that sounded like the wind howling, unstoppable on the shore of a beach. His throat was threatening to tear apart with his screams, when everything went white.

Dying was a peculiar experience. Lance was almost certain that’s what was happening. It was as if for a moment he was just floating by, a cloud of dust, unrestrained by anyone or anything. He felt like a pure light form, brightening the dark space around him.

It was all slipping away, through his hands, his mouth, his feet. The light became raindrops that dripped like a slow penance from his fingertips, but there was no pool underneath him. He could feel it ebb away from within him, a dying flame flickering in the wind. He was gone. He was dead.

Until everything came back full force into his body. The pain was somehow more intense than what killed him. It was so blinding, pressuring on his head, weighing down his skull until it felt like it weighed a ton. His chest was there to catch his head when he thought he might forget his name.

All around him was pure white consuming him. It was trickling in like a mischief of mice escaping the wretched claws of the hunting cat. But there was a spot in front of him, a darkness where there should be light. A silhouette was forming before his very eyes. It all became too much, so much Lance just wanted to close his eyes and become nothing; but before anything could happen, before it all disappeared within him again, that’s when he heard it.

“What…?” He tried squinting at the silhouette in front of him, but everything was fading fast at the edges, and then it wasn’t a silhouette, but two very blue eyes looking at him. His vision came back to Allura’s wet eyes, shining with tears that weren’t quite falling.

It seemed like the world around him hadn’t quite settled, the only clear thing to him being Allura and her stark-white hair and a dimming blue afterglow swivelling around her like smoke. _Oh_ , he thought. “You saved me,” he breathed. “You saved my life.”

Allura looked away, the side of her mouth twitching. “Yes, well,” she said, looking back at him. Her hand was still by his hair, as if it was frozen in place. “I owed you one.”

Lance felt like he was missing something. He wasn’t sure what, but he had a kindling feeling, a buzzing underneath his fingertips that told him there was something he had forgotten. Something important.

It took him a while of staring at Allura to hear the commotion through the comms.

Someone was yelling. Distantly, Lance thought it might be Hunk, but his head still felt too light to register anything. The commotion only served to worsen his headache, so with shaking fingers he turned them off.

Allura turned away to listen carefully, her hand on the side of her helmet as if that could help her listen better. 

The commotion was so loud he could hear the muffled version from Allura’s helmet. Lance could still hear someone yelling, but he couldn’t make any sense of the shouting and it didn’t help that whoever it was was talking _really_ fast. 

After a minute she turned to Lance, her face paling and her eyes wide. “Hunk— Hold on.” Lance had never seen her so frightened before. “We’re on our way.”

“What’s happening?” Lance demanded immediately, trying to ignore the way his vision swam when he stood up a little too fast. 

Allura was already on her feet and making her way towards the door to the cockpit. “It’s Shiro,” she said. It tugged at something inside Lance. Something he was _forgetting_. He thought it was all he was going to get, until she paused at the door. When she looked back at him, Lance’s mouth dried. “He’s attacking.”

Then she was gone.

Lance turned the comms back on again, and the shouting had momentarily stopped, which helped Lance clear his head, but he didn’t even know where to begin. He followed Allura down to the Galra station where he could see the Yellow Lion sitting idly on the ground with its particle barrier up.

His heart was hammering against his ribs, his palms sweating underneath his gloves. It was as if his body knew to be afraid, while Lance was still scrabbling for any sense of an idea as to what was going on.

Something important was happening. Something as important as what he was forgetting. He could feel it in the way his blood drummed through his veins in the beat of his heart.

He didn’t hesitate to follow Allura when she touched down and landed Blue. His bayard was already in his hand, though he didn’t know who he was going to use it on.

Allura touched her helmet again, her other hand gripping the blue bayard tightly. “Hunk, where are you? We’re coming your way.”

This time, Lance had no trouble understanding what Hunk was saying.

“ _We’re in the— Oh god, Pidge is down! Pidge is down, guys, you need to hurry! We’re in the main hull_ , _Shiro’s—“_

They both started running as fast as they could at the mention of Pidge, but once the comms cut off, Lance lost all thought of rationality. “Hunk. _Hunk_!”

“Hunk!” Allura panted, but it was no use. The only response they got was a silent static.

“Shit.” Lance was trying not to let the telltale panic fill his throat. He tried to tell himself that his frantic panting was because he was running.

The way to the hull was easy to guess. All they had to do was follow the littering bodies of Galra sentries, a dead giveaway for where the fight had been. When Lance glanced towards her, Allura’s expression was pinched, her eyes widened slightly in the only way they did whenever she was rarely out of her depth.

“Allura,” Lance tried, but his voice failed him. His heart was hammering so fast and so hard, he could taste every beat on his tongue. “What’s— what’s going on?”

The gleam against her helmet made it hard to tell, but Lance thought maybe the side of her mouth quivered when she shook her head. More and more Galra bodies were lining the walls, blood smearing the floor and the metal around them. The visor of Lance’s helmet didn’t cover his nose. The hall smelled like death.

“Shiro has gone mad. He has started attacking.”

“But why would he do that? I thought we were here to help the Galra?”

“Lance—“ They had reached the door to the main hull. He could see where her hand was clenching and unclenching her bayard. “He didn’t just attack the Galra. He started attacking _everyone_.”

The door to the main hull opened with a bang. A Galra sentry flew out into the hallway where they stood, Lance just barely getting out of the way before he collided with the floor. When Lance looked, he saw the sentry had a hole in his stomach.

The stench of the hallway intensified.

Inside, the sound of Hunk’s bayard firing away was the loudest, filling the room and reaching Lance’s ears before he registered anything else.

Allura went in first, her bayard activating into its whip, and she was already swinging before the target of Hunk’s firing came into view.

Lance couldn’t believe his eyes.

The main hull was chaos. Shiro was moving so fast, Lance could hardly track him, if it weren’t for the insidious glow of purple that indicated he had activated his arm. He was deflecting every shot Hunk threw at him, his other arm catching Allura’s whip and _pulling_.

Allura slid forward jerkily, but Shiro must have forgotten how strong she actually was, because then _she_ was pulling. It threw Shiro off balance just enough for the few surviving Galra sentries to land a couple of shots against his back, knocking him to the ground.

It didn’t seem to have any effect, however. Shiro merely stood up as if he had never swayed to begin with.

“Shiro!” Allura’s voice was pitched high with panic. He could hear the strain of her throat in the shrill of her calling. “We are your paladins! Stand _down_!”

Shiro didn’t seem to even hear her. Instead he turned towards the Galra sentries who had fired, and lunged. One or two of them were slow enough for Shiro to catch them with his glowing purple arm. The others scattered, some of them running towards the entrance where Lance was still standing frozen. Just as Shiro retracted his arm from the ribs of a Galra, Lance saw a flash of green on the other side of the hull.

 _Pidge_.

His feet were moving before he knew what he was doing. His bayard disappeared in his armour as he sprinted with all his might towards the still, green blob at the other end of the room. He faintly heard Hunk yelling and the whiplash of Allura’s whip. More shots from different angles, but as long as he could hear the buzz of Shiro’s arm and the roar of his anger, Lance knew he wasn’t safe.

Pidge was lying on her back, a small pool of blood right at her stomach. Her glasses were a few feet to her left, shattered with broken glass surrounding the stem.

Lance tried to conjure any knowledge of trauma wounds he could remember from the first aid classes back on Earth. In some form of a miracle, he barely remembered that they always mentioned putting pressure on the wound.

The blood flow was slow and thick, which meant that there seemed to go a couple of seconds before the blood started to seep through his fingers. He felt her pulse. It was weak. Very weak. Fuck, If Lance didn’t do something—

“Coran. Coran, come in.” The blood was pooling around his hands now, the white of his armor was slowly turning red. “ _Fuck, Coran!”_ He couldn’t stop the sob from spilling out of his throat. He didn’t have the strength to stop the tears from flowing either. “We need _help_ . Pidge is _dying,_ god dammit.”

A shout pulled Lance’s attention from the rising tide of blood. Hunk was knocked back by an elbow to his gut, and Lance noted that he wasn’t wearing his helmet. He found it lying a few feet away, dented and singed. The remaining Galra tried to subdue Shiro by holding him in a choke hold, and restraining his arms. But it wasn’t enough. With a burn of Shiro’s hand, the Galra holding his left arm staggered back and held his throat where smoke was traveling upwards.

The Galra holding Shiro’s neck was dragged over the short hairs on his head in a whirlwind of action, landing a few feet away with a crack. Allura was holding Shiro’s left arm with her whip around his forearm, but he must have figured out he only needed to swing instead of pull to knock Allura off her feet. Lance was struck by the memory and realization that Shiro knew all of their fighting techniques. He had trained with them almost every day for _months._

When Shiro turned with the motion, Lance could see his eyes were glowing purple.

Lance quickly gathered Pidge’s shoulders under his hands, and dragged her away, tucking her into a safe alcove while trying to subdue his panic. He had to do something, or they were all going to die.

He didn’t like leaving her there in the dark, the blood was still flowing freely. But she was alive. For now. If by some miracle Coran had heard his message, at least she could live on if they didn’t make it.

Lance truly didn’t know why he even tried a last time, but he reached up to his helmet and pressed the manual button to comm the castle. Pidge had installed it in case of technical dysfunction.

“Coran, please. We’re in the main hull. Shiro is attacking everyone. Pidge needs immediate attention. She is priority one.” Fuck, his voice was cracking. He needed to be coherent, so Coran could understand. If Coran didn’t understand he couldn’t help, for fuck’s sake, Lance needed to pull through. 

He felt Pidge’s pulse one last time. It was still fluttering weakly, but he couldn’t look at the wound, otherwise he couldn’t leave her there. For some reason, Lance thought of all the times he had snapped at her. Or times she had snapped at him. And then a brief flash of her laughing as he ruffled her hair. Her forehead was cool now against his.

“Please don’t die,” he whispered. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. “Please.”

Stepping out of the alcove was the hardest thing Lance had ever done.

When he stepped out again, two of the three remaining Galra were unconscious. Hunk reached for his bayard again, its flash brief before it formed into his tell-tale cannon for long range. He aimed it at Shiro, a determination set clearly in the grit of his teeth, but before he could shoot any blasts, Shiro wrenched the cannon by its shaft out of Hunk’s hands and swung it against him.

Hunk fell sideways, and landed with a hard thud, a trickle of blood already making its way across his forehead. Lance waited for him to get up, but it was for naught; his hands were slack by his sides.

Lance was already running as Shiro’s purple arm melted the deactivated form of the yellow bayard. Just as Shiro swung it away, deeming it useless, Allura cracked her whip from behind him, the tail end snaking itself around his throat as he fell to his knees.

Allura’s helmet had come off sometime during the battle, a few wisps of her hair clinging to her forehead where the bead of sweat made it. “This isn’t you, Shiro! Please, listen to me!”

Shiro clutched at where the blue whip shone around his throat. His eyes were almost entirely purple. There was none of the comforting brown from when Lance spoke to Shiro before the mission. Fuck, even then.. he hadn’t been…

“Oh, Princess,” Shiro said. It was hard to think it was the same man who had smiled comfortingly at him on the rooftop of the castle.

Lance jolted to a stop nearby, suddenly struck by the knowledge that it was the first time he had heard him speak since he entered the main hull. He even sounded like Shiro. The only way Lance could tell something was off, aside from the purple glowing eyes, was the way his lips twisted into a rueful sneer. Like he knew a secret they didn’t. It looked so wrong compared to the soft tilt he had given Lance not even twenty-four hours ago.

The purple of Shiro’s arm glowed more intensely. There was smoke coming from where his hand met the whip. “Then you don’t know me at all.”

The whip snapped, Shiro surging up and lunging towards Allura, but she wouldn’t be put off again. She quickly discarded the handle of the whip, and raised her fists. Lance only watched as Allura’s foot connected with Shiro’s face, the blue bayard clattering away and deactivating with a black soot mark on its side. Then he ran towards them.

Shiro was kneeling, and Lance didn’t think he could make himself kick him in the face for the second time, so he threw his arms around his neck, and hoped to restrain him that way.

It was belatedly, though, when he remembered how the other Galra had ended up when they had pulled the same stunt. Lance was only hanging on Shiro’s back for a second, until he was soaring over his head and landing in a clatter some distance away. Luckily, he used the momentum to roll when he landed, and came up on his feet, diving in to see Allura swinging fists while ducking away from Shiro’s glowing weapon.

Lance flanked him from the other side, getting in a few punches while he was distracted by Allura’s advances. “Shiro— stop!” He didn’t know why he said it, but it spilled out of him before he could help it.

Allura tried as well when she ducked another time away from his arm, landing a kick in his middle that had him doubling over. “You need to wake up! Haggar is controlling you!”

Lance aimed another punch on Shiro’s back, but he saw the arm too late. Before he knew it, something collided with the side of his face, making his helmet rattle around him, and then he was kicked so hard in the chest he flew backward. This time he didn’t land on his feet; instead, the air was kicked right out of him when he landed on his back.

The ringing in his ears, or the rattling around his head didn’t stop as he struggled to breathe. His lungs were shrinking, he could feel it, his ribs contracting, protecting too late. His mouth was open in a desperate attempt to drink in some air, but his lungs weren’t reacting, his mouth useless and he couldn’t _breathe, dammit, just fucking breathe_.

And just as he thought he would pass out from asphyxiation, his brain kickstarted and he gasped the biggest gulp of air he could hold with his lungs. His chest ached like it was on fire, his ribs stinging with a pain Lance couldn’t afford to pay attention to. He was dimly aware that he wasn’t wearing his helmet anymore, but what he was even more aware of was Allura’s outcry.

He struggled to get up, his head swimming before he had even lifted it a centimetre. When he rolled he saw that a few droplets of blood were dripping slowly into a pool. He wondered where it came from. He was weirdly numb and engulfed in pain all at once, but he couldn’t pinpoint any specific place it hurt the most, just that it hurt intensely.

He rolled his head some more and tried supporting himself on his elbows, wheezing in breath after breath to regain his sense of thought. In front of him, Allura was kneeling. She was bleeding by her cheek, and her hair had loosened out of her bun. Her armour was ripped in tatters by her stomach. Lance thought she should really get out of there, and he tried to tell her so, but all that came out was a croak from a broken voice. But Allura couldn’t hear him, so she turned back to Shiro from where she had been facing away to try and land a blow in a last attempt to win a fight where all the odds were against her.

Shiro was towering over her, and he saw it coming before she could retract. He caught her swinging hand in one of his own, and swung the other to her face. Her head snapped to the side with a sickening crack, her loose hair billowing around her limp body like a cloud as blood ran down from her nose. The glow of Shiro’s arm turned the cloud purple.

“Your father died in vain, protecting you,” he said.

 _No_ , Lance thought. He struggled to get his feet from under him.

“His cause was futile. He went to his grave trying to stand against the might of quintessence, but what he didn’t realize was that you can’t defeat energy itself.” Slowly, agonisingly, Shiro lifted his arm above his head. Allura lay motionless beneath him. “He burned for nothing. And you will follow in his footsteps.” His arm was a white blur in the air as he struck the distance between him and Allura’s head—

—And then he was falling sideways, landing on his side with a crunch. Lance breathed hard as he landed beside him a distance away, his head swimming, but his adrenaline begged him to roll away before Shiro’s arm could impact with his head.

He felt a brief sting at the side of his head, where Shiro’s weapon must have singed his hair.

“How many times,” Shiro said as he followed Lance with a kick to his side, “do I have to strike you down—” 

Lance’s arms shook as he tried to get his weight under him, but all it did was earn him another kick to his ribs. The cry falling out of Lance’s mouth drowned out the crack of his ribs as he landed on his back again.

“—before you realise you can’t defeat me?”

“Shiro, please.” Lance aimed for level, but it only came out as a wheeze, the air trapped in his throat and not quite reaching his lungs. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Hurt me? Hurt _me_?” The purple in his eyes turned sinister, his eyes crinkling the same way they used to when Shiro laughed at something dumb and foolish that Lance did. It was wrong. It was all wrong. “Who’s lying on the ground, Lance? How could you ever think you could win over me?”

His ribs cracked from underneath the weight of Shiro’s boot.

“You are _worthless_! You will never be anything more than nothing.”

Shiro leaned forward, putting more of his weight on Lance’s chest until all Lance could see was white flashes that had electricity echo in his ears.

_Lance—! Listen—!_

This wasn’t Shiro, this wasn’t Shiro.

“That is why the Black Lion will never choose _you_.”

Lance lolled his head. The adrenaline was beginning to ebb away, but he desperately clutched to the last of it thrumming through his veins. His fingers were twitching by his hip. He closed his eyes.

He couldn’t help but think of Pidge lying in the alcove, bleeding out. He thought of Hunk lying motionless with blood running across his forehead, his bayard singed, his helmet broken. Of Allura and her purple, cloudy hair, and the blood dripping from her cheek and her broken nose. Of Coran alone in the castle-ship. Of the pile of bodies with holes in their stomachs or throats or legs out in the hallway. 

He thought of Keith, somewhere out there among the stars, looking for himself in the passive eyes of the Blade of Marmora.

 _This isn’t Shiro. This isn’t Shiro_.

“We can just go home.” The words left with his breath, out from the place that was tucked behind his lungs, a strain in his voice that wasn’t from the crushing weight of Shiro standing over him. “You don’t have to do this anymore.”

The light of Shiro’s arm travelled slowly up his forearm until it reached just below his shoulder. The armour which had covered most of his metallic arm had been torn off sometime during battle, and now it was on full display right above him; a creation of hatred and greed and manipulation.

Lance had seen him fight for a long time, but it all seemed to be as far away as the brown that was supposed to be in place of the purple in his eyes. There was blood in the white patch of his hair.

When he smiled, he briefly looked like Shiro. “It is already done,” he said, his smile turning into a scowl and in the next second, he brought down the blinding light of his hand with full force.

***

The call to the Castle of Lions rang throughout the cockpit of the old Altean ship. Keith drummed his fingers on the armrest of the pilot seat, his wolf whining behind him for attention. Briefly, he chanced a look over his shoulder.

Krolia was sitting in her seat, her spine rigid, her eyes on the floating rocks passing them by. The purple of her hair was caressing the back of her seat. She looked so far away and yet so close at the same time. Keith wondered how he would look with purple hair. Truthfully, he didn’t think he looked anything like his mother, all his features leaning more towards his dad’s side. Then he wondered if his eyes would turn yellow as he grew older, too.

The seat beside her was occupied by the Altean girl they had rescued from the colony, Romelle. Her fingers were twisted together, her bottom lip caught between her teeth in a nervous fidget. He thought her marks might be glowing, but it might just be the glow of the stars and planets outside.

The continuous ring of the call made him nervous, it stretched too long, almost thinning his patience with each ring that rippled the line that indicated a voice box. It was still, save for the ring after ring as he waited for Shiro’s answer.

Maybe he was a little nervous to talk to them, but the urgency of the situation almost sedated the grating nerves of his flitting fingers. It had been too long since he had seen his team— the team. But that could be dealt with after the situation with Lotor was settled.

Finally, the ringing stopped and made way for a bigger screen for video feed. Keith willed his fingers to stop drumming and clutch the controls instead.

“Keith?”

His head snapped towards his screen.

“Lance?”

On the other side of the screen, Lance was standing beside Coran, wearing his blue armour and helmet. He stood with his arms crossed, but at the sight of Keith, his grip loosened, and his hands dropped to his sides. The seats behind him that usually occupied paladins during calls to the castle were empty.

“Where’s Shiro?” Keith asked, but Lance didn’t seem to hear him, because instead of answering, he stepped forward and crossed his arms again.

“Keith, where have you been? Why are you in an ancient Altean ship?”

Keith licked his lips, and opened his mouth to answer, but then he caught a flash of white in the corner of the screen that showed him the galaxy, and he quickly shifted lane. “Lotor is lying to you. I’ll explain more when I dock the ship.” He veered the control to the right, the looming sight of the gleaming white Castle growing ever so larger as the distance swivelled away. “Open a hangar for me,” he said, and then he hung up before either Lance or Coran could answer. 

The hangar opened for them as he had requested, and he flew in easily, landing in a vacant hangar in the corner of the ship. On his way out of the cockpit, Krolia stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. She didn’t say anything, but the sharp gaze of her eyes made him feel like she was trying to say everything at once. Instead she settled on a squeeze around his collarbone, and he nodded once at her, once at Romelle, and then stepped out of the ship.

The hangar around him was as he remembered it to be; wide, empty and metallic. Lance was already at the base of the ship, waiting for him with his arms crossed. He was still wearing his helmet, the soft blue light of the castle making the bead of sweat rolling down his cheek glow a tender hue.

Keith stilled his hands to fists, his wolf stepping up beside him. Behind Lance, Coran was running over towards them. 

“Where’s Lotor?” Keith asked.

Immediately, as an answer, Lance lifted a finger from the cross against his chest and stepped in Keith’s way. “Nuh-uh. First you answer my questions, space boy. How do I know you’re the real Keith?”

Keith blinked. “What?”

“You look bigger, more grizzled. Not to mention you have a gigantic wolf beside you.” Lance pointed at the wolf, then looked over Keith’s shoulder, his eyes widening. “And a Galran? Jesus, Keith, did you bring the whole—“ his eyes cut to over Keith’s left shoulder, his arms going slack by his sides. “Is that—“

“An Altean,” Coran breathed. He had finally caught up, stopping short beside Lance’s side, his moustache detaching his bottom lip in surprise. His hands were hovering by his midriff, as if he wanted to reach out, but didn’t have the courage to.

Romelle behind Keith just stood, staring.

Then Coran took a step forward. “How is that possible?”

“We don’t have time for this,” Keith cut in. “I’ll explain everything, but first we have to stop Lotor.”

Lance blinked, shaking his shoulders and standing a tad straighter. He looked leaner than usual. Maybe time had passed for them, too. “Lotor’s in Oriande with Allura. They have the mark of the chosen. There’s no way to get to them until they get out.” 

Keith hadn’t noticed Lance had stepped forward until he looked warily at the wolf beside him, and his mother behind him. 

“Keith,” he said. “What’s going on?”

Keith’s fingers twitched by his side, his fingers loosening. There was something about the way Lance was looking at him, something different. His right hand was by his belt, his shoulders were forced back, as if he was preparing for a fight. His eyes were still blue, but they might as well have been a lifeless gray.

He didn’t look much older than Keith remembered him, but then again, maybe he aged the same rate as Keith, slowly but surely. Something told him that wasn’t the case. He was the same height — Keith knew, because he was meeting him almost eye to eye, but he approached Keith in a way that indicated it was like seeing a stranger.

Keith’s fingers twitched again, and he parted his mouth to answer.

But before Keith could utter a word, Romelle spoke “Lotor is a monster,” she said, her hands fisted tightly by her thighs. “He is not who you think he is.”

Lance exchanged a brief glance with Coran, whose moustache twitched in a nervous tick. Something must have transpired between them, because after a second or two, Lance looked away, his jaw tensing.

Then Coran turned to Keith again, though his eyes were on Romelle. “I will call the team, and you can explain to us all what you mean, and where you have come from.”

It was then that Keith noticed that throughout his return, he hadn’t seen anyone else enter the hangar, nor answer the phone. It was completely empty, save for Lance and Coran, as if the castle was simply... vacated.

At Coran’s words, Lance spun around and stalked to the hangar doors, muttering something about ‘getting Pidge’.

Coran sighed and looked to the way Lance had left, his eyebrows pulled down the same angle as his mouth. His moustache twitched again, though Keith didn’t know why he was expecting him to start twirling it. “I suppose I will get the other then.” He muttered, though it felt more like he was talking to himself than anyone else. To Keith, he said, “We will meet in the control room.” And then he was walking away too.

***

As Keith was walking through the hallways of his old home, he couldn’t stop squeezing his hands into fists. His wolf kept whining at him, nudging his hands like it knew Keith was feeling out of sorts, but he couldn’t help it. Something seemed off, like everything was off-kilter somehow, or like something was missing, but he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was.

The halls of the castle all looked the same. The same pattern, the same architecture, the same lamplight, the same metal. Keith ran a hand against the wall for a brief second, thinking maybe it felt different, but it felt to him just as it had when he had left.

Maybe he had been gone too long. The mission he went on with his mother wasn’t supposed to have taken six months, but the quantum abyss had changed their plans quickly. Sometimes, despite the flashes of the future and the past, he still couldn’t look his mother in the eyes.

He wondered if that’s how his team felt with him, too.

Coming across Romelle had been luck, and the ancient Altean ship a downright miracle, but this is usually when things went sour. Keith had known since he was young never to trust good things too easily, to expect the tide to turn eventually. He thought, this was it.This was the turn.

Keith, Krolia and Romelle were all the first to enter the Control Room. On the screen was the view of the galaxy, though with a blindingly white spot ahead of them that twirled somewhat dangerously around itself, shooting up like a beacon of light. The antithesis to a black hole. Keith guessed that might be the ‘Oriande’ Lance had mentioned earlier.

His wolf whined again, and this time Keith indulged himself and petted its head, rubbing his thumb in the space between its eyes that Keith knows it likes.

They didn’t have to wait long, but Keith found it odd that they had to wait at all. He had half expected the others to have been there already, to have greeted him as he descended the ship like a long lost friend… or something like it. Maybe it really _had_ been too long for them. Six months had gone by on the quantum abyss alone, and when he still did missions for the blade of Marmora even more had passed.

Lance and Coran came in, alone, despite Lance having mentioned earlier he would get the others. Keith couldn’t help but shift and look around, waiting for Shiro to turn up, but finally after a few seconds he understood that he wasn’t coming to this welcome back party.

Finally, without taking his eyes off of Keith, Lance said, “I’d like to speak with Keith alone.”

Keith raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Don’t be an idiot,” Keith said incredulously, blinking a few times, but Lance wasn’t deterred. His back was still ramrod straight.

“Oh, it’s quite alright, number four, I hope our guests don’t mind a small tour of the castle that they will be staying in,” Coran said easily, showing a lithe arm towards the door, and gesturing for Krolia and Romelle to follow him. “Now, if you would.”

Krolia looked to Keith for his signal, and Romelle looked incredibly worried. Keith grit his teeth to stop himself from shouting. “We don’t have time for this, Lotor—”

“Won’t be back anytime soon,” Lance said, his jaw set. It had been a long time since he’d seen that expression on him. He didn’t know why he had expected things to be different when he got back. “We have plenty of time.”

Krolia walked to where Keith stood with his balled fists and squeezed his shoulder again, like she had on the ramp. Her eyes cut into him, and even though he’d already looked at her one time before, he had a hard time meeting her eyes now. Maybe he just didn’t want her to pity him. 

“It’s alright, Keith,” she said, squeezing his shoulder, again. He was beginning to think it was her way of showing affection. The thought made him want to squirm. “We’ll leave you two to discuss this in private.”

Keith stared at them until they left, but Lance didn’t take his eyes off of Keith. Keith’s wolf followed his mother out of the control room, until it was only Keith and his former teammate standing opposite each other, like two wrestlers in a ring.

Lance’s look at him felt scrutinizing, like he was searching for flaws just to have something to start a fight over. Keith didn’t like to be scrutinized.

“What do you want?” Keith demanded, sick of the stare Lance was giving him.

“Where have you been?” Lance threw back, which Keith should have seen coming. Lance was never one to take his crap and leave it. He’d throw it back, instantly, ten times harder. The thing about Lance was that he was too busy pushing Keith to be better that he didn’t have time for pity. “We haven’t heard from you in months, and all of a sudden you come back with a party?” He shook his head.

Keith wished his wolf had stayed with him. He clenched his fists to stop the feeling from spreading, because then he might have to admit that he wished he’d stayed here, too. But there was no point in looking back. He’d never done it before, so there was no point starting now.

“The Altean is Romelle. I found her trying to escape Lotor’s farmland for surviving Alteans, which you’d know if you’d let her explain it to the team.” Keith tried not to let the anger seep into his voice, but he’d always been bad at anger management. 

Lance crossed his arms again and kicked out with his feet, the glare of the lights reflecting off of his helmet. His stance was all wrong, Keith couldn’t help but notice. He should have been more relaxed at his knees, his mouth quirked in a self-satisfied smirk. 

“Allura’s not here, right now,” Lance said, finally. “And if it’s about Lotor, she’s the one who should hear it.” His mouth twisted sideways at the mention of Lotor, which Keith found only the slightest bit familiar. This Lance had seen something Keith hadn’t been here for. Keith saw none of the boy who’d missed Cuba so fiercely he sometimes couldn’t sleep at night. What he saw instead was a stranded boy, hardened by war; one finger on the trigger, while he reached for his mother’s embrace.

He wondered for the first time if something had happened while he was away.

“What about Shiro? Shouldn’t he know about this?” Keith asked.

“And the Galran?” Lance cut in.

Keith scoffed and ran a hand through his hair to keep them from forming fists, because he could feel they were preparing for a fight. The air between them felt charged, like they were on the cusp of something big. 

Keith made sure to take a few breaths before he opened his mouth. “She’s my mom,” he said with a quiet voice, half-wishing the words never reached across.

When he looked back at Lance, he was finally letting up his strict posture, his arms falling slack and his eyebrows loosening until he in the end looked like the boy Keith remembered.

“Your mom?” he repeated, like he couldn’t believe it. An envy and a relief wrapped neatly in an echo. He started pacing, close to something frantic. His hand reached up to rub at his neck, like he was quelling a headache.

“Lance, what’s going on,” Keith said with a finality. “Where is Shiro?”

He was looking away, his fists clenching but not crossed over his chest like before. Mulling over the question as if he considered how best to answer it.

No amount of planning could prepare Keith for what he was told next.

“Shiro’s dead, Keith.”

Time stood still. The ground beneath Keith's feet was quickly getting away from him. He took a step forward to regain his balance.

Nothing registered Keith’s mind. “What the _fuck_ are you talking about?” because a ballsy, groundbreaking statement like that had to have a follow up, otherwise Keith was going to let his fists fly.

Lance squeezed his eyes shut, like he wanted to be anywhere but there in that room. Like he was trying to shut something out. “He went berserk… he hurt everyone—”

“Lance,” he stated, stepping forward until he stood right in front of Lance, until his eyes had to shift to look into both of his. Maybe if he stood close enough the words would change. Maybe the distance twisted them. “Tell me you’re lying.”

The room was spinning, his breaths running ahead of him; he was grasping at its tail as he tried to keep up. Lance wasn’t answering.

“What happened to Shiro?”

Lance opened his eyes again, his blue eyes piercing, so cold, so familiar and all breath left Keith’s lungs as it sprinted away from him. “He wasn’t Shiro.”

For a moment, time stopped and nothing moved. The air around them was at a standstill, the only thing running out of control was Keith’s heartbeat. When time started again, Keith spun around hurriedly, so that Lance couldn’t witness his world falling apart. The walls were closing in, the room kept spinning, his stomach twisting in on itself.

All that time. He had run and kept running. But somehow Death still caught up to him.

“What?” he gasped, despite his wish. He thought maybe he was wheezing, but he was too busy trying to control the burning in his throat to really notice anything else.

He heard Lance shuffle behind him. “He was controlled by Haggar. He wasn’t our Shiro—”

“So,” Keith squeezed his eyes to will the image away from his brain, “you just killed him?”

“He was attacking _everyone_!” Keith hated that he instantly recognized the defensiveness of Lance’s tone. He hated that Lance had answered at all. “He hurt Pidge, Hunk, Allura! He gave me this!”

Keith turned around again to witness Lance tearing his helmet off for the first time since Keith saw him again.

The left side — Keith’s right — of his head was singed, a terrible burn mark that reached its fingers past his hairline onto his cheek bone. The mark had reached the top of his ear, the skin shriveled like it shied away from the light. The hair on the burned flesh was brittle and dying, but Keith could see newer and stronger hair was growing. it almost reached his eye. The one he used for his sniper gun.

It must have been really bad, Keith thought, if not even the cryo-pods could heal him.

Screams Keith hadn’t heard echoed in his ears as he imagined Lance clutching his eye, rolling from side to side until Coran or Allura could decide what to do next. He shut that out as soon as it came.

He had a hard time imagining Shiro had done that. He knew Shiro. He knew the gentle clap of his hand on his shoulder, the steady calm of his gaze. The only thing he could think of was how Shiro had been reluctant to use the weapon of his arm at all. He had shouldered the burdens of this war on his very own shoulders, so that they wouldn’t have to. He had protected them with everything he had. He was the chosen black paladin. He couldn’t possibly have caused such damage.

 _He wasn’t our Shiro_.

“What—” Keith tried, but his voice gave too much away. He cleared his throat and tried again, stilling his hands. “What does that mean?”

“Pidge says he wasn’t— she says he’s a clone. Made by the Galra. By Haggar. He’s not the real Shiro.”

“So,” Keith willed his world to stop spinning, “So he’s— he’s still out there?”

Lance looked weary, his shoulders dropping. In his own way, he had aged, too. “I don’t know, Keith.”

To think that all of that time. The Shiro they had found hadn’t been— All of that time— Keith had stopped looking. He’d stopped because he thought he’d been the one to find instead of being the one found. He stopped looking because he thought he had repaid what kindness Shiro had shown him. Had searched endlessly and tiredly, combed through the universe to search for the one person who always believed in him.

He’d returned the favor. He’d never given up on him. Until he had.

“No,” Keith spat, an irrational anger suddenly flaring up like flames. “Because you killed the only one who would!”

Lance flinched, his eyes lighting up with a fire as intense as the Red Lion’s weapon. “You left, Keith! You ran away! We were supposed to be a team and instead you turned tail. I thought we were partners,” he said, his eyes glistening like stars, and he was back to being the homesick boy with his thoughts back on Earth. The one Keith had stumbled upon in the middle of the night as he looked at the mapped stars, naming constellations after his brothers and sisters. A blink of the eye, however, and he was gone. “But turns out all you cared about was yourself.”

Keith felt himself shake his head, his body reacting before he could think about it. It had a habit of doing that, around Lance. His voice was softer than he intended when he said, “That’s not why I left.”

“Oh yeah?” Lance scoffed, his arms back in a cross. His lips curled. “Why’d you leave then? To find your mom? Well I’m glad you found her, Keith, it only cost the other family you left behind—”

“You’re not the only one fighting a war.”

“No one asked you to leave, Keith!”

“No one asked you to kill my brother, either!”

He might as well have struck him. Lance turned his head so quickly Keith thought he might crack his neck, his shoulders touching his ears like he wanted to protect them from Keith’s words. 

Regret filled every crevice of Keith’s bones. “That’s not— I didn’t mean—“

“Yes, you did,” Lance finalized, turning away. “I did what I had to do,” he said quietly. The burn mark on his left side reddened as if inflamed. “If you’d been here maybe you’d know that.”

Keith opened his mouth to defend himself, but at that moment, the doors hissed open again, and Coran poked his head through, his mustache twitching neutrally. He looked between where Lance stood brewing silently in his anger and where Keith was balling his fists, trying not to break down in the middle of the control room.

What a sight it must have been. How familiar it must feel.

No, Keith thought, there was nothing familiar about this.

Coran cleared his throat and looked back to Lance. “I hope I’m not interrupting whatever quarrel you two have going on, but Allura’s pod is on the way back, with Lotor.” He considered Lance carefully, while Lance took a deep breath and stood up a little straighter.

“Call the others,” Lance decided, “if what Keith says is true, then we can’t trust Lotor. We need to inform Allura immediately.”

Keith bristled silently, but said nothing. Krolia, Romelle and Keith’s wolf stepped back into the control room, and stood beside him, Romelle giving him a pleading look. Keith didn’t know what to tell her.

Pidge and Hunk came in soon after, geared up for battle. Pidge rubbed her eye and yawned, starting to say, “What’s going on— Keith!”

Keith loved the way her face lit up. When she ran over to hug him, he tried not to feel relieved.

“Oh, man, Keith!” Hunk exclaimed from the doors and rushed over to join the group hug. He threw his arms around them and squeezed, simultaneously squeezing some of Keith’s ribs. Hunk let out a sound that sounded both excited and relieved. “It’s so good to see you.”

Keith felt the fondness creep up on him before he could do anything about it, and if he smiled a little, no one had to know, because he hid it in Pidge’s hair. “It’s good to see you guys, too.”

“Where have you been?” Pidge demanded and stepped out of the hug. Hunk followed, stepping back to stand beside Pidge, though he looked reluctant about it.

Keith didn’t know what to say. He suddenly felt unexplainably anxious.

“I—” he started to say, but was interrupted by Lance.

“No time to catch up,” he said. His arms were no longer crossed, instead his hand was itching towards his thigh where Keith knew his bayard was hidden, just like he’d stood when Keith had landed. Tense, prepared for a fight. “Allura’s heading up with Lotor, now.”

Everyone in the room tensed. Pidge and Hunk didn’t ask or say anything, which led Keith to believe that Coran must have told them when he went to get them. 

Krolia stepped back beside Keith, and so did his wolf, Pidge and Hunk going to stand beside Lance. Keith pet it once, a last time, and then drew out his luxite blade. They all waited.

The elevator dinged.

***

The debrief after Lotor escaped wasn’t working for Lance’s fatigue.

He could feel it settling in, in the very corners of his mind, sizzling and sneaking like a snake in the desert. They were all weary, angry, tense. Hunk thought it might settle everyone’s nerves to make some dinner. They might as well, they had barely eaten anything all day.

Pidge sat opposite where Lance was, for once not clicking away at anything. Instead her head was bent and hidden in her arms, her hair falling over her forearms and made Lance be reminded of the first time he’d met Matt Holt. His hair had been just as long as hers was now.

Keith was there beside her, his arms crossed and his mouth twisted in a permanent scowl. Lance hadn’t missed it. Keith’s armor was glinting in the artificial light, but Lance could see from where he was sitting that there were multiple dents and scratches, too. Most of them were by his arms and shoulders.

He thought maybe Hunk had come in and set his plate, or maybe it was Coran, but Hunk sat beside him now, making no move to pick up his fork. Nobody moved, actually. Not even Allura, who sat at the head of the table, her head in her hand.

The silence was slowly killing Lance. He had no appetite, despite his favour of Hunk’s food, and the ever growing fatigue was making itself home fast. He thought maybe someone coughed, or moved, or said something, but when he looked up everyone was still at their places, settled in the silence like statues.

Coran, standing by Allura’s shoulder, had his hands behind his back. Lance had never seen him look so serious.

“So,” Hunk killed the silence, his fork remaining untouched. “What now?”

No one answered for a while. After a few seconds, Pidge raised her head with a sigh and picked up her fork, but she only used it to push her food around.

Feeling the ever growing weight, Lance rested his chin on his hand.

Finally, after a few more seconds of thick silence, Keith snapped. “We have to find Shiro.”

Hunk’s eyes turned sad. “Keith—”

Keith’s head snapped up with a ferocity, not unlike a lion provoked. Lance almost expected fangs to grow out of his mouth. “He’s still out there— somewhere!”

“Where would we even look?” Pidge closed her eyes, and settled her fork again, ignoring with a known habit Keith’s insistent glares. “It’s been— months. He could be anywhere. He could be nowhere. He could be dead—”

“He’s still alive!” Keith interrupted. His hands formed fists and rested on the table, but he did not bang them. He was not there yet. “I can feel it. We just have to look!”

“Buddy,” Hunk said, pleadingly, “I want Shiro back as much as you do, but—”

Keith turned his glaring eyes at Hunk, and Lance swore they turned yellow for a second. “I won’t give up on him!” Keith bellowed, then added, somewhat desperately, “Who’s going to pilot the Black Lion?”

They all stewed in that for some time. Lance tried to ignore Hunk’s heavy stare, and pretended instead that it was just his burn scar prickling.

“It’s no use.”

They all turned to see Allura rub her hand against her forehead, tiredly, before she raised her head and settled her gaze on them. “We won’t know if he’s the real Shiro or not. We could fall under the same trap again.”

Keith’s face curdled faster than spoiled milk. “So we just give up on him?” He snarled.

“That’s not what I said. But Pidge is right. We can’t afford to let Lotor keep his plan underway while we search for a needle in a haystack. What we need to do is stop Lotor while we still can and free the remaining people of Altea...”

His headache throbbing behind his skull, Lance squeezed his eyelids with his fingers to try and quell the looming sensation that he was losing his mind. Honestly, his mind did it a bit on its own. The voices around him turned to echoes, and bubbles of speech that never reached his comprehension. When he stared at his hands he thought they might look different, but then, he didn’t really pay a lot of attention to his hands before. Although he _was_ sure that back then they didn’t have blood on them. Lance blinked and quickly thought of something else.

The white of Allura’s armor glinted in the harsh light of the castle, but even his eyes couldn’t focus, his vision unclear until the armor turned into a cloud. Lance thought he might like a vacation by now. Preferably by a beach, where the sounds of the waves would help him sleep.

Back home, he’d lie in bed and listen to the waves crash into each other. You could say it was his lullaby, or his whale song. He’d stare up at the glow in the dark stars on his ceiling and he would listen to the lulling sound of the ocean until his eyelids grew heavy.

Once, he’d found his mother in the middle of the night, staring out onto the beach where the ocean danced for the moon, clutching her wedding ring with a white hot grip he’d only seen her use for cooking. She was thinking of _papà_. Usually he didn’t like to disturb her when she was like this, but it was the middle of the night, and Lance was a bit out of it, so he had waddled over and given her a hug from behind.

He remembered her soft gasp, how it contrasted to the harsh sound of the water trying to stay in rhythm. Missing steps. Feeling the flow. She had said his name, so softly, like the night told her to be hush about it.

Echoing through his mind now like an ever present gift. A glow, near the forefront of his mind. Like—

_Lance— Listen—_

_Slam!_ Allura’s palm met the surface of the table, making Lance jump in his seat. Luckily it didn’t seem like anyone had noticed it.“That’s _not_ what this is!”

Keith scoffed harshly, and Lance unintentionally flinched with the sound. It didn’t sound like waves crashing. More like crashing head first into a sea of rocks. “When _you_ were trapped Shiro didn’t hesitate to save _you._ ”

“Don’t you dare—“

“I’m with Keith on this one.” Allura looked shocked at Hunk, who was sitting innocently in his seat, his food untouched. “What? He’s right. He would have done the same for us.”

Pidge squinted her eyes, crossing her arms. “A minute ago you argued _against_ finding Shiro.”

“Yeah, but I changed my mind. I miss the real Shiro.” The light caught in his eyes, making it look like they were wettening. “And if he’s out there, we owe it to him to at least try to look for him. We can’t just abandon him when he needs us the most. Besides, he’s right about him going back for the princess.”

“That’s different!” Pidge argued. “Back then we actually knew where the princess was being held! We have no idea where Shiro is. You know as well as I do how big the universe is. And it’s _still_ expanding.”

“I love Shiro,” Allura said. Her voice reminded Lance of the distant, mellow sound of putting his ear to a seashell. “You know I do. He is my brother in arms in more ways than one. However, we can’t afford to be vulnerable in Lotor’s highest peak of scheming. we _have_ to stop him before he destroys the rest of what is left of Altea and its people. I am still their regent. I have a duty to protect my people before it is too late—”

“I have a duty, too!” Keith’s arms loosened, but only enough so that he could point at himself, vigorously. “Shiro’s saved my life more than once. If it hadn’t been for him, I wouldn’t even be here right now.”

“It could take months—”

“Then let it take that long, I don’t care!“

“We don’t have that much time on our hands—!”

“Enough, already!” Pidge bit out, snarling. Lance could practically see her head throb. His head pounded in sympathy. “This isn’t going anywhere.” Then, she looked straight at Lance. “What do you think we should do, Lance?”

Lance felt the shock of her stare go through his core. When he looked around Hunk was staring at him, too, expectant, like he was waiting for… something. Allura’s look was just as intense. Lance hesitated. The adrenaline had rushed away a long time ago, soon after the fight against Lotor had ended and he was sure they could all feel it. Besides, he couldn’t think clearly with the headache that insisted its existence, and the memories it woke up.

When he looked over, Keith was looking at him, too. He took a deep breath.

“I think we should take a breather and talk about this tomorrow. _Obviously,_ ” he said, when Allura and Keith started protesting, “we’re all exhausted from the last few days. We can talk about this once we’ve rested and think clearly.”

For the first time since the meeting began, Coran stepped forward and laid a hand on Allura’s shoulder, from where she had stood up in protest. “We’ll go over this again tomorrow at breakfast.”

“I think that’s a good idea.” Pidge said, rubbing her stomach. “My scar is starting to ache.”

Keith shoved himself up so hard his chair almost toppled, and stormed out of the dining room. He left a silence so heavy and intense it almost weighed on Lance more than his headache did. Everyone else filed out soon after, the meeting adjourned.

No matter how much Lance wanted to pass out in his bed, he stayed behind with Hunk to help him clean. No one had touched their food, but Hunk didn’t throw it out. Instead he put plastic foil on top of it and put it in the fridge. Lance helped him clean everything else up and put their glasses back in the cupboards for tomorrow.

It was as he was drying a glass that his head throbbed painfully. It felt like his brain was protesting its own space, trying to escape through his ears. Needless to say, it was not pleasant. The room swam with the ache, and Lance had to pause his drying in order to balance himself on the counter. He tried to do it as subtlety as he could, but he could feel Hunk’s eyes burning the side of his face. Ironically, it was his left side.

“Hey, buddy, you alright?” Hunk asked.

Lance shook his head, the pounding subsiding only a little. He thought a vein might pop soon. “Don’t ask me that.”

The sound of a squeaky clean glass being dried paused, followed by the thunk of the cabinet being closed. “Why not?”

“You know why,” Lance said, quietly.

“Lance—“

“I’m going to lie down. See you tomorrow, Hunk.”

Lance stepped out of the kitchen quickly, scratching his head, not giving Hunk the opportunity to argue.

His bones felt like they each weighed a ton, dragging his body like an unwilling participant as he walked down the empty hallways of the castle. A million thoughts were running through his head.

Truthfully, Lance didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to feel. The whole situation with Lotor, it nagged something in him. He hated that they had let Lotor escape, but he had somehow managed to sneak his generals on board without the rest of the team knowing, effectively planning his escape.

He couldn’t stop thinking about Allura and her heartbroken, crestfallen expression when Romelle had reiterated the truth. Had told them all what Lotor had _really_ been up to. Harvesting the last of the Altean species to reap their quintessence for himself. Allura swinging Lotor over her shoulder after his betrayal had set in had satisfied Lance more than he would’ve liked to admit, but it had been ephemeral. Seeing Allura chasing after him in Blue, when he had escaped with his generals, with such ferocity, his gratification died instantly.

Allura was powerful, Lance knew she was powerful, but the lightning she had thrown after Lotor’s ship had set Lance off, breaking him into a sweat and hyperventilating before he could grasp at reality again. He thought of Red’s roar forcing him back to reality, even though it hadn’t been meant for him. They had chased Lotor until he disappeared on the other side of the wormhole, and the Red Lion had been close to following, with protests from the team, if the wormhole hadn’t closed in time.

He didn’t blame Allura for falling for the idea of being understood. Really, he understood. It was why he wasn’t surprised when he’d seen the tears gliding preciously down her cheeks as she turned away to retire to her chambers when they came back from a fruitless fight. When she’d come back to the dining room, her eyes had been red. 

They still hadn’t found Lotor’s whereabouts, although Lance had a pretty good idea about where he was headed, but until they were sure, there was nothing to do. Still, the thought of sleeping made him restless, despite the deep exhaustion that weighed him down. They might have to find Lotor first then.

Lance had always known not to trust him, though, but it had been hard to voice his doubts when he had been silenced again and again.

By— Not Shiro.

Lance sighed, feeling the headache come back with a vengeance. He considered going to his room and getting some sleep.

He tried not to think of Shiro, but it was hard. Ever since Lance had started looking into the Garrison, he had known about Shiro, about his accomplishments, mostly because he was the face of the organization and filled most of the brochures for recruitment of the Galaxy Garrison. Shiro is the man kids should aspire to be, said the brochures. 

_Shiro can handle it all. Accomplish it all. Be like Shiro. Join the Galaxy Garrison._

Lance had seen the hero of him in the poster that came with the confirmation letter, saw what Lance could one day be. He’d hung it up over his bed and prayed every day with his _abuelo_ ’s rosary that he would one day stand where he stood, with stars in his hair and the Earth beneath his feet. Feet on the ground, head in the clouds. He would be the new hero of the Galaxy Garrison. His name was going to fill the brochures. Lance Mcclain, the man who did it all.

How wrong he had been. _How naive_ , Lance thought as he scowled to himself, _how stupid_. He thought of glowing purple, of sinister smiles. Absently, he touched the left side of his face, the curl of his burnt ear.

When his room came into vicinity he walked right past it.

Lance was forgetting something. He had been forgetting something important ever since he’d woken up in Red with Allura over him. It tugged at some deep part in his mind, something that wasn’t letting up or making itself known. Like it was hiding, waiting for Lance to start looking, waiting for Lance to find it.

Lance didn’t know how. He had an idea, and he had been at it ever since he’d come out of the cryo-pod, shaking and crying and embraced by Coran, but it wasn’t really working out. Still, he made his way through the hallways until he came to the hangars.

Thinking back to the mission, Lance had been close to death, and it had unlocked something in his mind to allow something to reach through, but he also somehow knew that going back to that dangerous state wasn’t the answer. He’d already tried that route, and the only thing he had gotten out of it was another scar to his collection. It hadn’t been on purpose, but the Galra commander had been a little quicker than he had anticipated.

It had made him doubt that he could do this, that he could carry the team. He knew what he had done, and he knew the consequences this meant for him, but… sometimes he couldn’t help but look out of the view room and wonder where Keith was, if he was thinking about them. If he was thinking about coming back.

He would never tell Keith this but truthfully, when Keith had become the pilot of the Black Lion it was like… something had opened up in Lance. Like he had finally found his place in this team. They were suddenly in this together, trying to make this ragtag team work with their bare, raw hands. But then… Keith had turned his back to face the sting of the luxite blades. Lance was left playing his games alone, like an old teddy bear, thrown away and forgotten.

So, when Keith had shown up again, after all this time, it had felt too good to be true.

The doors to the hangar were still as wide and metallic as they always were. Lance scanned his hand on the panel beside the door. He shouldn’t be surprised that it still recognized him, but Lance couldn’t help but feel a certain anxiety about the doors forgetting him some day. But they parted for him today, like they remembered him, and he walked through them to stop just before he reached the lion.

The Black Lion stood majestically in front of him, its stance regal and proud, like the head of a lion’s pride should. The bolts were rusty, and the paint was chipped, but neither him nor Coran had had any time to freshen its exterior up.

At the echo of his steps, the Black Lion’s eyes remained passive, but it tilted its head down and opened its jaw regardless, like it had been doing the past few months. It knew he wasn’t Shiro. He knew he wasn’t Shiro, but the Black Lion still accepted him and took him in until he was in the cockpit.

The controls lit up dimly in the dark of the hangar, but Lance didn’t need them. He didn’t need anything but the chair really. He settled down, the blue of his armour a stark difference to the black interior and he tried not to notice how purple the controls were. He clenched his fists and grit his teeth.

He’d been sleeping in the Black Lion ever since it had allowed him inside. He’d hoped that the proximity would do something, help him in some way, to find its rightful paladin. He thought maybe if he slept in his room, the distance was too great for whatever it was that was trying to reach out.

He knew, somehow, that it was coming from the Black Lion. He’d known that the man attacking the team back at the galra base hadn’t been Shiro, but he couldn’t remember _how_ he had known that. Like it was instinct. Like he had always known. It had to have had something to do with his current headaches, and the fact that the Black Lion chose him.

Despite it all, however, sleeping in the Black Lion meant a surprising lack of sleep. The seat wasn’t a good support for his neck, and Lance had a bone-deep exhaustion filling his every crevice that prevented him from sleeping, ironically. The few times he _had_ fallen asleep, nothing had come to him, or he had forgotten again as soon as he woke up. Some of those nights he’d have to dry his tears off his cheeks. Maybe his lack of memory was a blessing in disguise.

Still, that didn’t mean he had to give up. Something was happening, he could feel it in the thrumming of his toes and the soft vibration of the Black Lion, like he was waiting for something, preparing for something. Lance had an inkling, a feeling, that if he kept trying maybe something...

Lance wasn’t going to leave before he found out what it was. Allura and Keith spoke of duty, but Lance had a duty, too. He had a duty to his team. To his hero. If the Black Lion chose him, there must have been a reason, and he was going to do anything he could to try and justify his place here.

Lance settled in the seat until he was close to comfortable, and closed his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> YEEEEEE-TO-THE-FUCKEN-HAWWWW MY GUYS. Off to a very intense start already, haha *sweats*. 
> 
> I started this fic last year mostly to answer the question: under what circumstances would Lance become black paladin after season five? And also because when I rewatched season 6 last year, particularly the broganes arc, i couldn't finish it because i felt very strongly that the WHOLE team should have been a part of the kuron arc, because this series started out as a found family trope and only involving keith in the kuron arc just,,, didn't sit right with me so HERE WE ARE.
> 
> To circle back to the question, I decided that it would have to be a situation where neither keith nor shiro were present, and I'll explain why. I have a headcanon (that I feel canon supports) that Keith was only chosen by the black lion in season three, because the black lion was heavily influenced by Shiro's opinion and wishes. The black lion is sentient. They know who fits well as the role of the black paladin, and when Shiro was alive it was him. Allura described the black paladin to be a natural-born leader who had the instant respect of his team and could therefore lead them. This fits Shiro perfectly. It does not fit Keith. When Keith was chosen, he clearly did not know how to lead, but he also didn't show very much team-work unless he was put in his place by Lance. This is not very black paladin material and you would think the black lion would know that. So why was he chosen? the only explanation would be that it is because Shiro influenced the black lion to pick Keith as the leader.
> 
> If the black lion hadn't been influenced, the natural and logical person next in line for the role would be Allura. She is a natural born leader with the instant respect of her team, which allows her to lead them. She is a princess born to rule and would therefore be perfect for the role. But she was not chosen, because Shiro acted on his selfish wishes and wanted Keith to be the leader. And because Shiro and the black lion's bond was so strong, it influenced who the black lion picked next. So therefore, Keith was chosen.
> 
> I want to explain why Lance was then chosen in this scenario, but it's gonna involve spoilers so I'll wait until the next chapter to elaborate on that. But yes, this is the foundation from which this fic is built. Nothing else makes any sense so I do not see it *sparkle emoji*
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and that you'll stay for the next one :')). Exams are in two weeks time, so the chapter will probably be uploaded sometime after that. Luckily I have a very long christmas break TvT.
> 
> In the meantime you can follow me on tumblr under the name tbartss, where I also post soft art of our favorite bois (and other stuff) to make up for all the angst in my fics lmao. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!<3333


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